


The Last Time

by kitsuchi (genusshrike)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Blackcest, Community: hp_blackcest, F/F, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-25
Updated: 2003-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genusshrike/pseuds/kitsuchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything ends after this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/hp_blackcest/profile)[**hp_blackcest**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/hp_blackcest/) challenge "the hollow men".

**The Last Time**

It was their last night together, in the swollen light of the moon upon their childhood home.

They stared at it, hands clasped, from their spot by the river bank. Bellatrix's nails dug into Narcissa's wrist and struck lines of red up her arm.

Suddenly Narcissa turned towards Bellatrix, letting her nails scrape, staring moon-eyed at her sister's face. Bellatrix stared back, a black, proud mirror. Later, there would be bruises where Narcissa's fingers had pressed.

Narcissa didn't know what to say. Maybe there was nothing to say, but she searched her sister's face regardless, desperate for some hint of a way to make this right.

But there was nothing to say, and she fell back gently onto her knees. Bellatrix gave a mockery of a smile, and turned to stare back up at the manour house. It was dark. It was empty too, just like they were empty. The pride faltered a moment, let out the hollowness in the eye and the need for _something_.

She fell like an avalanche upon Narcissa, smothering her in lip and tongue, skin against skin and warmth upon warmth. Narcissa relaxed at the touch, as if this were something she knew and understood. It was something she could comprehend, even as she couldn't comprehend Bellatrix.

In the swollen moonlight, pressing on the river bank as close as they could go. Cloth ripped easily under Bellatrix's nails and Narcissa's skin broke easily, pale, but bruising darker. But skin on skin wrapped and groping no-one could tell, not even Narcissa, and certainly not Bellatrix, who never paid any mind to other's cares, not even Narcissa's; not anyone's. Later Narcissa would trace the lines along her flesh and press the purpling of skin, and she'd dress herself up, and hide it.

But for now it wasn't hidden, only cherished, if it were known at all when there was so much else to feel. Like Bellatrix.

They held against each other as the night climaxed and the moon fell, skin darkening, and stared into each other's eyes. And maybe there was something in the emptiness. Maybe Narcissa could catch it, and hold it as they fell together, held together, as the moon sank low.

They unravelled from one another, naked and bared with the echo of touch upon them and the first dawn light. Narcissa still did not know what to say, and Bellatrix had nothing to say. So they sat in silence till they parted in the stark of day.

Narcissa would shiver alone in her room and trace the memory of Bellatrix on her skin, and remember the last time forever.


End file.
